The watchman
Found his friend
In a man called Dead.

Four hundred
Angels cried out
For his soul so gone.

And I dropped
My gun on the floor
And found strength in his blood.

A man called Dead
Dropped to the ground
In a pool of blood
And returned to life.

All who stood with the watchman
Found the floor a good place to stay,
Bathed in the blood of saints.

And I,
A man called Dead,
Returned to life.

And I,
A man dead,
Bled to life.